Category: journal

She does, in fact, know everything. Even though she might not actually remember if you ask her to tell you.

• Neve [of a burning candle]: if you light it again then it will burn more won’t it Daddy?
• Me: no, it’ll just keep on burning the same. It’s either alight or not alight.
• Neve: I know

• Neve [looking at an atlas]: What county’s that?
• Me: That’s not a country — it’s a collection of countries called a continent.
• Neve: Yes, I know.

(And, yes, I know that’s not a very good definition of continent.)

A typical exchange:

• Do you know what that is, Nevey?
• It’s a $thingy
• No, it’s a $other_thingy
• Yes, I know.

Reminds me of someone…

She is also somewhat prone to saying, “Don’t be silly, Daddy!”.

She does whinge. And says things like, “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee” over and over when not getting what she wants. Except sometimes when she’s being sensible.

And sometimes, instead of saying “I know,” she’ll say, “That’s a good idea”.

…and wear it on my way to work. OK, it’s only a silly little quilted jacket thing but does symbolise the end of a notable period of warmth where a shirt represented adequate coverage for the day.

Our palatial converted threshing barn in Peterstow, near Ross-on-Wye where we stayed for a week with Mum and Dad and Tom, Esther, Grace, and Lily May. A beautiful location with stunning views over the Herefordshire and, in the distance, Welsh hills and a wood in front of the house that was the home of at least one buzzard. And a chiffchaff that spent the entire week chiff-chaffing away but which I never managed to spot.
The bank holiday weekend was superb — beautiful, hot, sunny weather and we spent most of Saturday, Sunday and Monday staying pretty close to home: playing in the garden, walking to the local church (St Dubricius, with Anglo Saxon origins, a lovely pipe organ, and pretty frescos), nipping out with Dad to a local car boot sale, popping round to the local hotel for their Bank Holiday fun day, and having the special afternoon party to celebrate Mum and Dad’s 70th birthdays.
The days following the BH were somewhat cooler and overcast and meant we tended to play in the garden a little less. We pieced together the 1000-piece jigsaw Dad had brought, made yummy food in the enormous but pretty badly-equipped kitchen (luckily, we had brought a lot of stuff ready-made, and kept the rest pretty simple).

Tom knew someone in Herefordshire who generously lent me a guitar and Tom and I put down a version of GI Blues using Logic on his laptop. He had his snare and kick pedal and some cymbals. You can hear the result on soundcloud.

We did a couple of day-trips in the gloomier weather. One to Symonds Yat, where we saw, in the distance, though the drizzle, a pair of breeding Peregrine falcons; and another to a minature steam railway/adventure park in the Forest of Dean where dad, of course, knew the owner, or manager, or something.

So, last entry was Feb 20 and here we are in July. Tsk! In the interests of at least keeping a vague tab on progress, herewith a quick rundown of major events.

• Cut down the hawthorn (ie, severely pollarded) behind the back fence
• Took off the old back door, removed frame and brickwork above. Sawed wall back to worksurface depth. Deplastered other wall; replastered ceiling.
• Neve was four. She had her party in the Cheeky Monkey Barm.
• It was very cold.
• We went to Italy for Easter. It was also chilly for the time of year there.
• It was very cold on our return.
• We went to Herefordshire to celebrate my parents’ 70th birthdays
• We went to Branscombe to celebrate Esme Seren’s naming
• Lola was seven
• Lola got a little bunny, Twinkle

Not sure why the question mark–even the most hardened optimist would be unlikely to bet on Spring taking hold half-way through February. Still, it has been a gorgeous weekend and, over the last week, I’ve seen blue-tits, a dunnock, a long-tailed tit, and a pied wagtail; I don’t recall seeing anything but robins, corvids, and gulls since last year. Well, except the egrets and heron but they were a special case.

Did I mention that we put a new back door in? (Well, OK: got someone else to. I was a little unkeen to get it made and fit it myself.) It’s a white UPVC, fully-glazed thing. Most pleasing.

So, Saturday was lovely. Balmy and calm and mild. We jumped on the bikes and cycled into town via the river. Parked up on Trinity Street outside the craft market which we then proceeded to stroll around for a while before heading off to St Michael’s for a spot of lunch. Then we peered in the art shop’s window, went looking for books in the University Press shop, spent ages in Heffers, accompanied Isa to Boots, dove off on a secret mission (it’s Isa’s birthday next Saturday), and then cycled home via the Beehive where I picked up some rice noodles and a little duck breast to make a stir-fry for dinner. Lola has been collecting change and ‘found’ coins for a while now and had amassed some nine pounds. We encouraged her to spend some of this on the sticker book she wanted. Which she did, but then subsequently and on a few occasions got very upset that she no longer had nine pounds. Though she would not have given up the sticker book…

Sunday was a beautiful clear day and I took the kids down to the allotment (bribing them with snacks and use of my headphones and suchlike). The ground was too wet to dig, but I cleared the plot of last years bean poles, old tomato plants and other detritus. I know: shameful that this was not cleared earlier. The plan with the allotment this year is to turn almost all of it over to potato, as we are also taking on Tim and Sabrina’s allotment. Yes: bonkers.

Bored now–t’ra.

It is traditional, or perhaps it is simply a tired and self-indugent cliche, that I start these entries by bemoaning the dwindling frequency of my blogging. This time, however, I’m not going to do that. (Do you see what I did there?)

Anyway, tired oldbollocks aside, we’ve had a fantastic break over Christmas, thank you very much, with notable features including a hitchless Christmas day, a general air of relaxation (not easily obtained at this time of year), and a successful post-Christmas week of outings and walks.

Mum and Dad arrived on Christmas Eve eve and parked up their camper van for a five-day stay. They both looked well and Dad appeared unplagued by pain or complication, though he did suffer a day or so with a nasty throat. We talked, ate, played, drank Dad’s wines (each accompanied by its own story), and, after Christmas, played Mah Jong with the new (old) Mah Jong set Isa had given me.

The girls were lovely: very well behaved and very loving with their grandparents. They made us very proud.

Isa hosted a Christmas crafts morning the other day. We had Rosie, Teo, and Isla around to work with Lola and Neve making snowmen out of polystyrene and glitter and cotton wool and stuff.
It went pretty well.

Isa was pondering yesterday how we might do Christmas differently and avoid the terrible round of present-buying and other nefarious spending that we manage so badly and which promotes stress, guilt and whatnot.
The obvious solution is, er… Not obvious. Perhaps it’s all about expectation management (yes, I’ve had too much contact with project managers) and we should tell everyone next year that we’re not doing presents and that we don’t expect to receive any.

I must note this lest I forget. I do love the way Neve often refers to me (or, with appropriate adjustment, Isa or even Lola) as “my daddy”. As in, “Look at this, my Daddy!” or “My Daddy, can you help me draw a triangle”. It’s very endearing, somehow.
She can spell her name now or, at least, recognise all its letters. And indeed she spends a lot of time spotting them and pointing them out. “Look, my sister–that’s my letter!”